Life River
by Crimson Solitaire
Summary: I am Remus Lupin. Welcome to my life: the happiness, the heartache, and the hell that I have wished to stop living in for the last thirty years. This is a tale of the beginning. UPDATE 6404
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: Crimson Solitaire does not own Harry Potter or his friends, and does not intend to make any money from this work of fiction._

_ A Quick Note: This has been inspired by many questions that were running through my head, most important of which being the question of whether Remus really had a happy childhood and adolescence. The MWPP era is hardly portrayed with ups and downs, and it was my intention to portray the bad with the good, the heartache with the happiness. This is a story of Remus growing up and learning to live life through relationships, hardships, and his lycanthropic illness._

**Life River**

**By Crimson Solitaire**

* * *

**Prologue**

At five years old, most children are starting school, making friends left and right, playing with toys and using their imaginations, just waiting for their lives to start. I, however, was waiting and wishing for my life to end. 

My mother was eccentric, an artist. She burned her bras and wore her hair in waves, often having a ring of flowers crowning her head. If she ever knew who my father was, she never let on the fact to me. She had raised me herself, and always told me that she never needed a man around, because I was the only man she would ever love. Before I got the whole "Birds and Bees" chat, I thought she had created me herself. 

She had a lot of men around, though, throughout my younger years. They clung to her like bees to honey. She never gave them the time of day, and that made them all the more attracted to her. They'd hang around our flat, watching our telly (Mum was a Muggle-born witch and always liked those Muggle contraptions), and playing with the other electronics. Sometimes they'd make dinner or wash the dishes, or do other chores around the house, but Mum was never impressed. What always caught her attention was when they did something for me. That was their one-way ticket to my mother's bed. 

It was an American man we were with when my life changed drastically. I don't recall if he was a wizard or a Muggle, but Mum and I know he was a coward. He had saved me from a modern piece of art called "Woman", which was a statue of a woman in rotund form. I had wandered off while my mother attempted to sell some of her paintings at the exhibit, and I was playing Police Chase, something I had seen on a program on television. I ran into the statue of "Woman", and it resulted in it almost crashing on top of my head. But, the American man caught "Woman" around the waist and saved me from a nasty bump on my head and my mother from a doctor's bill. 

"Whoa there, kiddo," the man said. "You need to be more careful." He hoisted "Woman" back onto her stand and smiled at me. He had a bushy mustache and friendly lines on his face. 

"What's your name, son?" 

"Remus," I answered. "Th - thank you." 

"Don't thank me. Where are your parents?" 

"My mum is over there." I pointed to where my mother was standing, arguing with an art dealer. Apparently she hadn't seen the whole ordeal. 

"I'm Steve," the man said. "It's nice to meet you Remus. Let's go talk to your mom." 

I nodded and he took my hand and led me to my mother. 

"'Scuse me, ma'am. This your son?" 

Mum bent down and kissed my forehead, then lifted me onto her hip. 

"Yes sir," she said. She wasn't about to apologize if I had been misbehaving. She believed that children would be children, and that if you punished them you'd break their spirit and it would cause them to have an early adulthood. She had already had me at seventeen years of age and seemed to know a lot about early adulthood; that was not what she wanted for me. 

"He's an active kid," Steve said. Mum raised an eyebrow at his accent. She didn't think much of Americans. She didn't think much, really, of anything. Only me. Perchance it was her suffocating me that, in later years, encouraged me to be rebellious. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"He's got a great imagination. He was in his own world and didn't see that statue over there." 

"It almost fell on me," I told her quietly. "He caught it." 

"What did?" 

"That statue over there." 

"You're not hurt, are you?" she asked me. I shook my head. She turned to Steve. "You're not hurt?" 

"No, ma'am." 

"Well then," Mum said briskly. "Let me make it up to you." 

It was a demand, not a question. No one ever turned my mother down. 

"Sure," he said, smiling. "I'm Steve." 

"Kathryn," she replied, holding out her free hand. "Not Kate, not Kat, not Kathy." 

"Well, Kathryn, it's nice to meet you." 

"Excuse me, Miss Lupin, but we're not done here," the art dealer said. 

"I believe we are, Mr. Smith." This was what Mum called Cat-And-Mouse. She wasn't finished with him, just toying. I think there might have been a little magic behind these games, but I've never gotten her to give up her secret. 

"I have come to the conclusion that your work would be extravagant in our main hall." He shook his head as if he was trying to figure out what he was saying. "After all, this is modern art, and -"

"Wonderful." She handed him a card and told him she'd be back in two days to do business - give him the paintings, and take his money. 

Those were the last two paintings she sold for the next fifteen years. 

* * *

Steve stayed on longer than any of the other men that bought me toys and ice cream. I guess my life earned him a longer ticket to my mother's company. He was a businessman, came over to the Isles for marketing purposes. He came from the northern part of a state called New Mexico, and told me stories about Cowboys and Indians for bedtime. I would fall asleep, listening to his deep, American accent, seeing the pictures of the deserts behind my closed eyelids. Many nights he wouldn't even return to my mother's bed, and I'd wake up in the early hours of the morning, feeling his hot breath in my hair, hearing the slight snore of his sleep-eased breathing. 

Steve had a weakness for being outdoors. He often said that he missed going hiking and camping, and that he couldn't wait to return to his homeland so that he could climb atop those purple Rockies. Mum didn't like men with weaknesses, but he was her weakness, and in that weakness, she lost sight of herself, and sight of me - in both the literal and figurative sense. 

Mum began spending time away from home, staying at Steve's flat, I believe. On those nights, she'd leave me in the care of Antonius, an Italian wizard who washed dishes at the local pub. During the day, I'd sit upon her knee as she half-heartedly stroked thick brushes over loose canvas, sighing every so often, waiting for the clock to turn to six - when Steve would get out of the office and back into her arms. 

A couple months after my fifth birthday, Mum set up a surprise camping trip for Steve. Mum didn't think much of nature, and neither did I, but she insisted it would be a treat for us to spend time with Steve - "As a family," I believed she called it. If there was a flame of hope that Steve would be joining our family, it was extinguished our very first night on our trip. 

"Look at that moon." Steve whistled. "I haven't seen a full moon as golden as that since I was hiking in Canada back in Fifty-five." I calculated that to be ten years ago. My mother smiled, pouring herself some tea. We were playing cards and eating ice cream. 

We ate so much junk food that night that I got a bellyache. I shook Steve awake and asked him if he would walk with me outside the tent so I could throw up. He pulled on his shoes, helped me with mine, and took my hand. We walked outside in the damp, and I remember being fascinated that I could see my shadow because the moon was so bright. After that thought left my head, I vomited all over myself and on Steve's shoes. Steve rubbed my back, telling me I was going to be all right, telling me that I was a brave boy and that being sick was all right because everyone got sick sometimes. But he stopped talking when he heard a howl. 

"Remus," he whispered, his voice shaking, "it's just a wolf. You've seen them on TV, right?" I nodded before doubling over to retch again. "They're not that scary." His sentence was punctuated by another howl, this one more distinct. It was eerie, haunted; there was an almost-human sound to it. 

"Let's get back to the tent, shall we?" 

I couldn't answer. My fright had taken over, and caused me to be even more ill. I was on my hands and knees, crying over an ever-growing puddle of vomit. A growl emitted from behind the tree to my left. 

"Remus!" Steve hissed. "We've got to get out of here." 

A nasty bark issued as the thing sprang from behind the tree. It pounced on its prey like wildcat on a rabbit, and I fell sideways and felt a sharp pain in my thigh. After that, everything's black. 

A month later is when things aren't black anymore. I was in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and had been in a coma. My mother was sleeping with her head on my little lap, and when I shifted to sit up, she roused from her slumber. She embraced me tightly, crying and kissing the top of my head. When she pulled away, she smiled at me so brightly that I wanted to take back every mean thought I ever had of her while she was with Steve. 

"Where's Steve?" I asked. Mum wiped the tears from her eyes and set her jaw sternly. 

"The bastard left," she said. "Took our car, left me with you, and left us for dead, Remus. He didn't even try to save you, didn't even try to sacrifice himself. I judged him wrongly, Remus. I thought that maybe he'd be the one to settle in with us, and he'd be yours and mine. But I let go of the most important thing in my life. I let go of my son, the man of my life. I'm sorry, Remus. It's all my fault." She dissolved into tears again. "You have every right to hate me." 

I was confused. Nothing could ever make me hate my mother. We did everything together; we were a pair, she and I. I hugged her and told her that I would never hate her, that I would always love her, and that we would always be together. And then she explained to me about my accident. 

"Remus," she said, her voice high and soft. "You were attacked by a magical creature. A werewolf." 

"A werewolf?" I had seen moving pictures about werewolves - they were scary mythical beasts. Or at least that's what Muggles thought, and since I practically spent my childhood as a Muggle, I believed it as well. 

"Yes, Remus. A werewolf. He bit you. And do you know what happens when a werewolf bites you?" I knitted my eyebrows. "You become the same as him." 

"You mean, I'm - I'm a werewolf?" My mother put her face in her hands. I had never seen her in tears before now, and here she was, telling me this almost impossible information, and acting like a leaky faucet. 

"It's all my fault," she said. I patted her back awkwardly. We spent most of the day like that, me comforting her while I was the one hurt. I was perfectly fine. In fact, I had never felt better. I could move all my limbs as if nothing happened, and I could hear and see and smell like never before. I tried to explain this to her. She shook her head. 

"Just wait. The full moon is tonight. The doctors say we can't stay here." 

Then she was up and packing all our things from the room into a tattered bag. She took my hand, and helped me to dress. I noticed a large, shiny mark on my left thigh. It was in the shape of a bite mark, covering the whole front of my thigh. That was the first of many scars I would receive, physically and mentally. 

That evening, my mother kissed me and hugged me so hard I thought she would squeeze the life out of me. "It's just for tonight," she whispered. "In the morning, we'll go get you anything you want." Her eyes were wet as she pushed me into the bathing room and locked the door behind me. The bathtub had a neat little nest of pillows and blankets, and on top of the sink was a tray of milk and cookies. I remember thinking that this was going to be one of the best nights of my life. I mean, what kid wouldn't love to sleep in the bathtub and be given sweets? How soon I had forgotten my pleasure, though; how soon I realized that my mother was right. 

The sky outside our second-floor bathroom turned into maroon, then faded into indigo. I sat transfixed, watching the steady rise of the stars, instinctively waiting for something to happen: the rise of the moon. And then there it was, the silvery orb coming up over the tops of the buildings, brighter than any beacon light. 

If you've ever been crazy, then you'd know how I felt when I first saw that moon, coming over the tall flats of London. For those of you who haven't seen a glimpse of insanity, I'll describe this the best way I know how: My mind raced without my controlling it, I saw pictures in my head of the attack on the night I was bitten, I could hear howls ringing in my ears. Everything I thought made sense, and nothing I thought was making sense at all. Confused? That's not compared to how I felt. 

When I saw the moon in its entirety, there was a sharp pain in my left thigh, followed by a _snap!_ I heaped to the floor, crying in pain as each of my bones, in turn, broke in two, sometimes three places. I was in such pain, that I dug my teeth into my forearm, only to have my tongue welcomed by bristly fur and the sharp metallic taste of blood. The fur itched, my bones resettling themselves ached, and all I could do to take my mind off the sting and pain was to bite and scratch at myself with my sharpened nails and teeth. 

After a few hours, I believe I passed out. Or possibly I just don't remember the whole night, having spent it scratching and biting away at myself. I do know that my mother opened the door to the bathing room at sunrise, and found me - my clothes shredded, my skin broken and bruised - lying asleep in the blood-soaked nest she created for me. 

This is only the beginning. Welcome to my life. Welcome to the hell that I have wished to stop living in for the last thirty years. But I must be strong. That's what Mum taught me; how I have survived this long. God rest her troubled soul. This is for her. 

* * *


	2. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Crimson Solitaire does not own Harry Potter or his friends, and does not intend to make any money from this work of fiction._

_ Author's Note: Thank you to those who reviewed the prologue. I appreciate your comments. ~Crim*Sol _

**Life River**

**By Crimson Solitaire**

* * *

**Chapter One**

By the time I was ten, I had been through roughly sixty transformations, each one would repeat the process of the breaking and resetting of my bones, the biting and scratching at myself. I gave myself numerous scars, but none would hurt like the one that I gave my mother. 

She was never a drinker. She loved going to pubs, and saw them as an art in themselves - the drunkenness, the sweaty people groping each other to the rock 'n roll music; but never did she take place in these actions. Not to my knowledge anyway. I realize now that some days she probably did take part of these rituals, because it was the Sixties and Hippyism was at its height. She'd come home on the mornings after the full moon, let me out of the washroom, and tell me all about the nice people she met, among them were Jimi Hendrix and Mick Jagger - in the figurative sense, of course. It wasn't until I was ten that I figured out that the first statement I related was untrue. Well, it _had_ been true that she never drank, that is, until I became the monster I am. 

Though my mother was beginning to drink near daily, she was still good to me. Only, I believe her actions were because I was her Life River: I was her reason for living. I was also what brought her sorrow. I gave her life; I gave her death. 

Her death wasn't my fault. Not technically. It was all her years of heavy drinking that gave her the liver disease that painfully killed her. But I'll spare you the details for right now. Save them for later. For now, we'll keep them in that box at the far corners of your brain - the drab, grayed holder of memories bad. 

It was when I was ten years old that my mother did the greatest thing ever for me. She found a reason for me to live: She gave me my Life River. 

The headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would not allow half-breeds to enroll in the school. This included me. While half-breed didn't exactly describe me or my heritage, my condition was on the list of creatures that were to never set foot on school grounds for educational purposes. 

It was a Thursday morning that I took my very first Floo expedition into a shifty tavern at Hogsmeade, which I believe is now a frilly stationary shop. My mother ordered a butterbeer for me, and a firewhiskey for herself. She gulped the whiskey, ordered another, then patiently waited for me to finish my drink. 

"What are we here for, Mum?" I asked her. 

"Hogwarts," she said. "I'm surprised you haven't gotten any note from the school yet. Your name's down on the list and you don't live in a Muggle household." 

"Don't you have to be eleven to get a letter?" 

"Yes, well" - she took a swig of her drink, then sighed - "well, I wrote to the school, and I haven't had any reply. So, we've come to show them what a normal, wonderful boy you are, and that you are capable of going to school with civilized people." 

"I am civilized." 

"Well, love, we know that. But, there are people who don't...well, _understand_ you." 

This was news to me. "What do you mean?" 

"Witches and wizards don't deal with people of your kind very often, that's all. They're afraid of them, even when they're in human form. They avoid werewolves, and discriminate them. Do you know what discriminate means? It means they treat you differently because you're not like them." 

"In a bad way?" Mum nodded. "But, I don't understand. I'm just like everyone else, but with an illness. They don't treat people with cancer any different, do they?" 

"There's a cure for cancer in our world," she said quietly, "not a cure for werewolves." 

This was the moment I realized how much I really didn't know about my magical side. I grew up barely knowing that I was a wizard, not really knowing what that meant. I had only seen my mother use her wand a handful of times, and the idea fascinated me like a fantasy story. All of a sudden, she was telling me things about the reality that I never thought existed. I figured that the wizarding world would be like all the fantasy books my mum and I read together. It was a very wrong figuring. 

I didn't speak, just gulped my butterbeer, and then followed my mother down the path through town and to the castle that was really a school. 

"Ah, Miss Lupin." The voice was jovial and belonged to a man with several feet of red hair and beard that was going steadily silver. He looked down at us through his half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes twinkling in delight. He wore the oddest set of clothing I had ever seen: A violet velvet robe with a printed pattern of moons and stars, and a matching pointed hat. 

"Professor Dumbledore." Mum dragged me up the stairs at a faster pace, then shook the wizard's hand. "Professor, this is my son, Remus. Remus, this is Professor Dumbledore." I shook his hand as well. 

"Pleased to meet you, Remus," the professor said. "I hear you want to go to this school." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Glad to hear it." He turned to my mother. "Professor Dippet has been quite ill lately and I've been acting in his place, so I apologize for not getting back to your owls as fast as we both would have liked." 

"I apologize that I've pelted you with so many of them." 

I kept my eyes from widening. My mother never apologized to anyone except for me. She must have held amazing respect for this man. 

"No worries, Kathryn. I can understand. Do come inside, we'll go up to my office and have tea." 

"That'll be lovely." 

I was taken into the largest hall I had ever seen and led up a staircase with hundreds upon hundreds of paintings that moved. I tugged at my mother's sleeve and pointed to them. 

"Oh, don't mind them," she said. "They're like that everywhere." 

"I take it that you're not painting anymore moving pictures, then?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, sir. I had my fun with them at school, I have no need for them now." 

We reached his office, and stepped inside a cluttered room with three windows of different shapes on one wall, and shelves of objects on the other three. A large, oak desk, also piled with gadgets, sat in the middle of the room. He pulled out his wand and produced a large tray of tea items, and a hot chocolate for me. We sipped quietly for a moment. 

"Why is it that you chose to live as a Muggle, Kathryn, and not pursue your mediwitch training like you planned?" 

"The Sixties happened, I suppose. And pregnancy. But all I wanted to really do was paint." 

"You've a brilliant mind, and you're ambitious enough. Why not start again now? I'd certainly talk to my contacts." 

She shook her head. "No, I think I'd just like to pay attention to being a mum for now." 

Professor Dumbledore nodded. "Understandable. What about after he starts school?" 

My mother shook her head. "It seems he'll never get in with his condition." 

"Miss Lupin, Remus is a wonderful boy. We both know that he's smart and polite, and that he deserves to be educated the same as any other human being. Unfortunately for both him and us, the world doesn't work that way. If I were the headmaster, Remus would be the first to get his letter. But I'm not the headmaster - just simply taking his place during his absence." 

"But he's old and ill. Do you think it possible -" She stopped herself. "I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't mean it. Professor Dippet is a great man, and I would never wish him horrid things. I'm just - just frustrated, is all. I'm desperate to get him into school. I think he needs it. I can't keep him from the real world anymore, nor to myself." 

"It would hardly seem fair." 

There was silence. It was awkward and painfully agitated. I was frightened - never had my mother talked in such ways as she was doing that day. I was stuck in between wanting to go to school and be normal like everyone else, or to stay with my mother the rest of my days being sheltered from everything. All ready I was tired of our flat, tired of London, tired of being controlled by my mother. I decided right then that I really wanted more than anything to go to this school. 

Professor Dumbledore's sharp blue eyes penetrated mine and held my gaze for a few seconds before nodding. I had a strange feeling that he had read my thoughts and was nodding to my silent prayer of hope: _Please let me in, let me be here, let me be like all the other kids, let me in. Let me live._ My mother used to tell me that there was no god, only stupid people worshiping some man that they thought could help them get what they wanted in life. I knew my mother was wrong at that moment. Dumbledore was god: He had heard my prayer, and had nodded as a sign of granting my wish. I grinned wider than I had in the last five years, and squeezed my mother's hand tightly. 

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do, Miss Lupin," he said finally. "I'm going to place Remus's name on the list, and we'll tell Professor Dippet that we've got Remus's condition under control and that he's going to be going home every full moon so no students will be in danger." 

"That's expensive," Mum said. She had never worried about money. 

"That is why it is a decoy. There is a hidden passageway from the grounds to a house in Hogsmeade for the teachers. The house hasn't been used in years; I think half the teachers don't even know about it. We could arrange for Remus to be sent there during the full moon, and no one would be the wiser. He will be able to transform in safety and peace." 

My mother gave a nod. "I appreciate this greatly, Professor." 

"I know you do, Kathryn," Professor Dumbledore replied softly. "I know how much it means to you. We have the same desires, you and I. We should not let those with little knowledge stand in our way." He tapped his nose. 

"Thank you for meeting with us today, Professor. I am afraid we must get going, I have some errands to run in the village." We stood, and the professor rose with us. He gave a bow, saying, "It is a pleasure to have you in my office, as always." 

My mother gave a girlish grin. "I was never under the impression that you thought so. I figured you thought me just a tiring troublemaker." 

"It is always delightful, Kathryn, to have company such as yourself, even with the troubles you make. We found good use for some of the moving portraits you've painted, and many of them have made me laugh." His eyes were twinkling merrily. "If you're not careful, Remus will be just like you during his school years." He gave me a wink. 

"Oh, I do not think that that would be pleasurable. I don't fancy much that Remus would turn out like me; there wouldn't be so much hope for him, after all. No, Remus is smarter and stronger, and he is a good child. He won't be a troublemaker, and he won't disappoint me. Good day, Professor." 

Mum took my hand and led me out of the cozy room, and then further out of the castle. We walked in silence, contented, back to the village. This is where I met my first Life River. 

But first, maybe I should explain the term Life River as I've seen it: _Life River_ is not to be confused with _River of Life_. River of Life seems to mean the river that flows with life; that gives life. While Life River can give you life, it is deeper to say that it gives you a reason for living. It can also give you a reason for unhappiness. Mum explained it to me all those years ago that it was like a real river: It can be life giving, but it can be a bringer of death as well. Maybe this doesn't make much sense to one who hasn't had to live with the term, but I will be able to show you more of my meaning later on. It's easier to show than tell, anyway. And it's quite a long story that goes with the explanation. 

My first Life River. He was standing in a corner of the Quidditch supply shop, staring up at the newest edition of the Cleansweep racing broom. He looked over at me when I stood next to him and gave a small smile. 

"She's a beauty, isn't she?" 

I nodded in agreement, though I had no idea what he meant by that. In the fairy tales my mum and I would read at night, there would be witches and wizards riding all over the country on broomsticks, and I had asked her if people really did ride on them, and she had said yes, but I had never believed her because I had never seen it happen. 

"What I wouldn't give to be able to bring something like that to Hogwarts," the boy said. "But you know the rules, First years aren't allowed broomsticks." 

"Are you going to Hogwarts next year?" I asked. 

"Of course!" the boy said, his hazel eyes wide with excitement. "And I can't wait. Are you going there?" 

I hesitated slightly. "Yes...yes, of course." 

"No better place, there isn't. What House do you hope you get in?" 

I shrugged, having no clue what he was talking about. 

"Well, my father was in Gryffindor, so naturally I should like to be in there. Mum was in Ravenclaw, so I guess that would be okay too. A lot better than Hufflepuff or Slytherin." 

"My mum was a Ravenclaw," I said, remembering the stories she told of Hogwarts, which were few. "But, yeah, Gryffindor would be nice." 

The boy nodded. "Oh, I'm James, by the way. James Potter." He held out his hand and I shook it. 

"Remus. Remus Lupin." 

"Remus Lupin," he said, shaking my hand enthusiastically. "That's a good, strong name. My father always says to make friends with people who have strong names. Says it shows strong character, which, of course, makes them a good ally." 

I didn't know what _ally_ meant, but I figured by the way he said it that it was a good thing. I wanted a friend more than anything, so I grinned at James Potter and he clapped me on the back. 

"Now, there's a Sirius Black around here somewhere, and you're going to like him too. I just met him today as well, but he's got a good strong name like you and I'm willing to bet that he'd like you too." 

"Remus!" I turned and saw my mother calling me from the door of the shop. "Remus, we best be going. I've got a present for you, but you can't open it until we get back to London." 

I had the urge to roll my eyes for the first time in my life. 

"All right, Mum." I turned back to James and shook his hand again. "It was nice meeting you, James Potter. I hope that I will be able to see you again, and to meet your friend Sirius Black." 

"Oh, you will, Remus," James said. "Don't you worry about that." He waved to me as I walked out the door. 

"Who was that?" Mum asked as we headed towards the bar from which we arrived. 

"James Potter," I answered. "He's going to Hogwarts next year too." 

"Potter, eh? I bet I knew his father growing up. He was a good kid, grew to be a good man. I didn't know him as well as I would have liked, with all the House rivalry, but you'll do yourself a favor to be friends with that Potter boy." 

I nodded, and stepped into the large firebox. I grinned excitedly as we hurtled back to our flat in London. Things were going to start going my way.

* * *


	3. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Crimson Solitaire does not own Harry Potter or his friends, and does not intend to make any money from this work of fiction._

**Life River**

**By Crimson Solitaire**

  


* * *

**Chapter Two**

The next day I received my Hogwarts letter. Overcome by joy, my mother and I danced around the flat singing and jumping on the beds. She dished me a bowl of chocolate pudding and promised to take me to Diagon Alley that afternoon. I had heard her talk of Diagon Alley, but every time she had to go for something (which was a rare occasion, of course), she would leave me home with the boyfriend of the week, or she'd take me to visit "Uncle" Antonius. But this time she promised that I'd get to go. 

Diagon Alley was alive with people in brilliant colored robes and hats. There were squawking owls and cats everywhere I looked. Such shops I could never imagine were lined up on either side of the crowded cobbled street.

"Mum, what's Quidditch?" I asked, looking at a window with mannequins in orange and green robes holding broomsticks and a large red ball. 

"It's a sport," my mother said. "I was never really into it, but I'm sure I've mentioned it to you. It's the game where there are seven players on a team and they fly around on a broomstick catching and throwing balls. It's a dumb game, really. While everyone was away at the matches, I'd stay in and paint." She gave me a small smile. "You might like it, though. But this isn't important. Let's get you to Ollivander's - we've got to get you a wand." 

I had thought long and hard the night before and decided that a magic wand was something I desperately wanted. I had seen my mother use hers occasionally, but it was only to clean up things and do other household chores when her blokes weren't hanging around. But I was more excited to be learning how to conjure things like I saw Professor Dumbledore do. 

Ollivander's Wand Shop was a small, dusty shop that contained boxes stacked at least ten feet high and three feet deep, all in a haphazard manner. When Mum and I walked in, Mr. Ollivander was sitting on a stool behind the front counter, the only part if the shop that wasn't dusty. He had his back to us, and previously seemed to be looking over a long piece of a stick of pinewood. He turned around when he heard the bell ding at our entrance, and his silvery eyes brightened at seeing my mother. 

"Kathryn Lupin!" he said. "I thought I could feel your wand the alley. Willow with a hair from the tail of the finest unicorn." 

"That's right," my mother said. 

Mr. Ollivander looked at me, his silver eyes piercing mine, making me feel both welcome and unwelcome at the same time. "And who do we have here?" 

"This is my son," my mum said. "Remus. He's going to Hogwarts this year, and he needs his first wand." 

Mr. Ollivander's eyes never left mine. "Wonderful, wonderful." He finally turned away and grabbed a tape measure, then pulled out his own wand and charmed it to start measuring me in the oddest places. He then turned and started digging into the pile of wand boxes against the walls. 

"Eleven inches, yew, dragon heartstrings," he said, pulling a wand out of the box. He handed it to me, and motioned for me to wave it. I did, and nothing happened. I frowned, wondering why it didn't work. Maybe I didn't have magic like my mum did. But, Mr. Ollivander didn't even seem to care, he just snatched the wand from my hand, and went back to the pile, and pulled another wand box from it. 

"Ten and a half, cherry, with a mane hair from a unicorn." He handed the wand to me, I gave it a wave, and nothing happened again. 

Mr. Ollivander pulled out at least five more wands, telling me to give it a wave, and having nothing happened. With each one I gave a wave and nothing happened, I felt more discouraged. Maybe mum was wrong; maybe I hadn't gotten a letter from Hogwarts because I didn't have magic like her. But Mr. Ollivander didn't care - he just kept pulling out more wands for me to try, like this was great fun for him. 

"Twelve and three-quarters, eucalyptus, phoenix feather." 

As soon as I touched the wand, I felt a wind pass through my body. Silver and gold sparks shot from the tip of the wand. Mr. Ollivander looked very pleased, and my mother clapped her hands in excitement. 

"A wand says many things about the wizard who holds it. The wand chooses the wizard. You are to be a great wizard, Remus, but only through trials and hardships." His silver eyes were boring into mine, boring into my soul, almost as Professor Dumbledore's had. This was an eerier feeling, though; like a cold hand had swept through me. Right then I knew that Mr. Ollivander knew more of my fate then even I could fathom. I don't think he was seeing the future, but I could tell that he knew, more or less, of the hardship I had been through and had yet to go through with. 

I nodded slightly, staring into his eyes. I finally tore my eyes from his when my mother took my wand from me and placed it in the box. She paid Mr. Ollivander, then took my hand and led me out of the shop. 

"Congratulations, love," she said to me as we walked down the cobblestone street. "What else is on your list of items you need?" 

I pulled the list out from the back pocket of my jeans and looked at it. I still needed a cauldron and potion supplies, robes, books, quills and parchment. She nodded when I told her, then took me to Madam Malkin's Dress for All Occasions, and informed the witch at the front desk that I needed robes for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

"Now, Madam Malkin will fit you for your robes, dear, while I go pick up the rest of your supplies, understand?" 

I said I did, then waved goodbye to her as she left the shop. 

"This way, dear," the witch, apparently Madam Malkin, said. "We've got another one being fitted for Hogwarts robes at the moment. It'll do you good to meet her." 

I followed Madam Malkin to the back of the shop, where there was another witch measuring a girl standing on a stool. I stared at the girl for a few seconds before being ushered onto the stool next to hers. 

This girl had the prettiest shade of red hair I had ever seen. She looked at me and smiled, her bright green eyes showing slight nervousness. 

"Hogwarts too?" she asked. 

"Yes," I said, lifting my arms as Madam Malkin instructed me to do. 

"Wonderful. I'm not from a magical household, so you can imagine my surprise at receiving the letter from Hogwarts. I'm Lily. Lily Evans. What's your name?" 

"Remus Lupin," I said. I couldn't help but stare at her. She was beautiful with her almond-shaped eyes and wavy auburn hair. 

"Pleasure to meet you, Remus." She raised her arms so the witch could measure them. 

There was no more conversation after that, except for a goodbye and a hope that we'd talk to each other again when we were at school. She walked out of the room to the front of the shop, and I watched her go, not having any idea of the future that we would have together. Not knowing that she'd become my savior and damnation in years to come. 

* * *

A week passed in a blink, and before I knew it, Mum was walking through King's Cross station with me, telling me how much fun I was going to have, and how I had better be a good boy. She warned me several times the night before that I had better not tell anyone about my lycanthropic illness, or else everything that she and Professor Dumbledore had worked so hard for would be for nothing. I didn't know what lycanthropic meant, but I knew by the way she said it that it meant werewolf business. So I promised her that I'd listen to Professor Dumbledore and the other teachers, and not break any of the rules. 

My mother walked me through the brick wall onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, where a scarlet steam engine sat chugging up steam. She helped me get my cart on the train, and then kissed me goodbye, making me promise to use my new owl she had bought me to send her news of myself. I hugged her back, taking in her scent one last time for the next ten months - she smelled of raspberries and a faint hint of gin. She had been drinking that morning, like she did nearly every morning. Like she did every day. 

"Remus?" a voice called behind me. I turned from the window where I was waving my mum goodbye and saw James Potter standing there. "I thought that was you. Where are you sitting?" 

"I haven't picked a spot yet." 

"Good. You can sit with me and Sirius Black. Remember I told you about Sirius Black?" 

"Yes." 

"He's eager to meet you too. You'll like him, and of course he'll like you." 

I knitted my eyebrows. "How do you know?" 

"Because I know these things. My dad says that people who are good allies befriend each other quickly and stay that way for life." 

I nodded and followed him through the corridor to the compartment. A black-haired, handsome-faced boy sat on the seat looking through a magazine. He looked up at us as we entered and smiled. 

"You must be Remus," he said. "I'm Sirius." 

"Nice to meet you, Sirius," I said. 

James and I sat down, and Sirius started rummaging through the magazine again. A whistle blew, and the train started to lurch forward. My stomach lurched with the train. I was going to Howarts. I was getting away. I was going somewhere where I could pretend to be a normal kid with a normal life. 

The three of us sat in silence for a while, James and I were staring out the window, watching the scenery whip past. Sirius still looked through the magazine, which was called Quidditch Review. 

"I can't believe I'm finally going to be at Hogwarts," James said, breaking the silence. "I mean, we're finally going to learn magic. Isn't that exciting?" 

I nodded my agreement. Sirius just looked over the top of the magazine and raised his eyebrows. Actually, he was attempting to raise one eyebrow, but it was more like he had both eyebrows raised and was squinting one eye. I suppressed a smile. I was going to like this kid. 

Even though he made that weird face, he didn't say anything. He just went back to reading the magazine. I wondered what made him look at James like that. Perhaps this guy was more hostile than I thought, but I saw no reason to fear him. Not yet, at least, and I hoped never to be on his bad side. 

I stared out the window again. I had left the comfort zone of my mother's side, but I wasn't afraid. Well, not very much, anyway. 

"Are you a Muggle-born?" Sirius asked, finally closing his magazine and looking at me. 

"No, my mum's a witch," I said. 

"Pureblood?" 

"Uh, no, she was Muggle-born." I wondered why it mattered. I turned pale at the thought of him judging me because of it. I knew it wasn't my fault, just like it wasn't my fault that I was a werewolf, but I didn't want to lose the friends I had just made over it. 

"I was just curious," Sirius said. His eyebrows knitted a fraction of an inch. "You're looking a bit peaky - are you all right?" 

"Yeah. It's just I sometimes get - er - motion sickness," I replied quickly. 

"Oh, well, it's almost lunchtime and the food trolley should be coming around soon. Eating might make you feel better." 

I nodded. 

When the food trolley turned up, I bought a few items called Chocolate Frogs, and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. I had had Every Flavor Beans before, though my mum used to charm out the nasty ones. I must say, it was a new experience trying to guess which ones were edible. Sirius and James joined in after a while and we had a grand time trying every bean. James got a burnt-rubber flavored bean and became violently ill out the window of the train. Sirius and I laughed so hard that we had tears streaming from or eyes. 

Sirius clapped me on the back, and then clapped James's shoulder as he had his head between his knees, attempting to recover. 

"I'll remember this moment for the rest of my life," Sirius said. "I'm going to like you guys." 

James looked up at grinned. Sirius and I grinned back. My mum would have been so proud of me if she could have seen me. 

* * *

The first years were led across the lake in boats, which I shared with James, Sirius, and a mousy-looking, round boy called Peter, whose last name I hadn't caught. A lady in acid-green robes, who I later learned was Professor McGonagall, led the first years through the massive entrance hall, and into the Great Hall. She placed a mangy wizard's hat on a stool, and the hat began to sing. After the Sorting Hat's song, the names of the first years were called, and each was sorted into houses. 

Sirius was the third person to be Sorted. The hat fell over his eyes, and stayed there for a good minute and a half before calling out, "GRYFFINDOR!" Sirius pulled the hat off his head and made his way over to the cheering Gryffindor table and sat down next to a pretty blonde girl, who placed one arm around his shoulders and gave a quick squeeze. 

A few more names were called before "Evans, Lily." The girl with the pretty red hair I had met in the robe shop, strode determinedly up to the stool, placed the hat on her head, and not a second later became a Gryffindor. I watched her walk proudly over to the Gryffindors and take a seat a few spaces away from Sirius. With both Sirius and Lily now in Gryffindor, I hoped that I would become one too. 

My name was called a few minutes later, and I forced myself not to tremble as I shoved the hat on my head and sat on the stool. 

"Remus Lupin," a voice said in my head, "you're a very clever young man. But Ravenclaw would never do you justice. You have survived six years as a werewolf -"

"How'd you - "

"I read your thoughts. I'm reading them now. Lycanthropy requires bravery, my boy. But it must be kept a secret. You have the cunning of a Slytherin, but -"

"Gryffindor," I thought at it. "Please." 

"You interrupted me, Remus. You have too good of a heart for Slytherin. So I have made my decision, and you'll be placed in GRYFFINDOR!" 

I pulled the hat off my head and made my way over to the cheering Gryffindors. I sat across from Sirius, who shook my hand and said, "At least you're with me." 

James became a Gryffindor as well, when his name was called, and so did the boy, Peter, whose last name I learned was Pettigrew. 

"I'm glad I get to share a dorm with you lot," Peter said as the feast started. "I was hoping to have decent dormmates." 

"We're all decent," James said. "Of course we'll have a good time." He stuffed mashed potatoes in his mouth. "Pettigrew, eh? That's unusual. Where are you from?" 

"Wallsend," Peter replied. "Though I don't know where the name comes from." 

"Pettigrew. I like it." 

We ate and chatted a bit. Sirius talked with the pretty girl on his other side. I wondered how he knew her, though I figured they must be related. I pretended to concentrate on my chicken and ham pie while listening to the conversation. They were quiet, but my wolf ears picked the words up easily. 

"I thought I'd get Slytherin, Ann," Sirius said. "The Sorting hat was so close to placing me in, and in the end it decided Gryffindor." 

"It's not like you're the first not to," the girl replied, throwing a thick strand of blonde over her shoulder. 

"I know - you're here. But what are my mum and dad going to say? They figured that I'd get put in Slytherin and that it'd straighten me out." 

"Who cares, Sirius? They've got Regulus, who seems much more intent on pleasing them. Do what makes you happy and don't give a damn about anything else. Look at me and my sisters - I'm happy, and both Narcissa and Bellatrix are in Slytherin and they're miserable." 

Sirius gazed over to the Slytherin table. I made a point of reaching for the tureen of peas as to look like I was occupied, and to keep myself from looking to where Sirius was. 

"Hey, Remus, you ever play Quidditch?" James asked from my left. 

"Uh...no, I haven't." 

"Well, you follow it, don't you? Do you think that England should have won this year?" 

"I...uh...sure." 

"Or do you think it should have been Wales? Peter here thinks -" I listened to James half-heartedly, agreeing and disagreeing in places where it sounded like he thought I should. 

Professor Dumbledore stood when all the plates were cleared. I could have sworn that when his blue eyes were sweeping the Great Hall, they landed on me and gave me the tiniest of winks. 

Professor Dumbledore said a few words, one topic of which was an announcement that, due to health reasons, Headmaster Dippet had decided to retire as Head of Hogwarts, and passed the title on to Dumbledore. 

Dumbledore looked at me again, and I was sure that he winked this time. I knew he had somehow read my thoughts again, my thoughts being that I was here at Hogwarts to stay indefinitely because Dumbledore was Headmaster. 

Everyone cheered at the end of Dumbledore's speech, and then the prefects called for the first years to follow them up to Gryffindor Tower. I stretched as I stood to follow, and realized I was exhausted. 

* * *

_A/N: Thanks so very much to all those who have reviewed. I greatly appreciate the comments!_


	4. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Crimson Solitaire does not own Harry Potter or his friends, and does not intend to make any money from this work of fiction._

**Life River**

**By Crimson Solitaire**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Lily Evans caught my arm as we were heading up the gigantic marble staircase. She smiled, and I noticed her auburn hair was in a long plait down her back. "Congratulations."

"Huh?"

"On getting in Gryffindor," she said. "I'm glad that we're in the same House at least. You're the only person I recognize here. And there's only one other girl that got into Gryffindor." She lowered her voice. "And I don't think she's seems very friendly." She pointed to a raven-haired girl walking next to us, but a few feet in distance. The girl had her arms folded and was scowling.

I turned back to Lily and raised my eyebrows. "I think I saw her coming out of the loo on the train. Her eyes were all puffy. She probably misses her mum and dad."

"Oh. Well, I miss my mum and dad, but I'm not crying about it like a baby." She shrugged. "I guess some people can't handle it as well, though." She eyes me. "You haven't been crying for your parents, have you?"

I shook my head no. This Lily Evans was getting deep into my personal life. I wondered what business she had asking me personal questions like that. I figured she just had a fiery personality.

James and Peter were walking in front of me, and Sirius was walking next to the same pretty blonde girl. I wondered how he knew her. She looked to have been a third or fourth year.

Sirius and the girl stopped to let James, Peter, and me catch up. James and Peter eyed Lily, then eyed me. At that age, boy-girl interaction was unheard of, and the fact that I was walking next to a girl my age was taboo. I introduced her to my new friends, and then the blonde girl, who said her name was Ann, walked ahead with Lily.

"That's my cousin," Sirius said. "Andromeda. She's a third year. We get along best out of all our family."

So that's how he knew her.

"I know what you mean," Peter said. "My grandma and I get along best."

"I have an uncle like that," James said.

I worked hard not to let the corners of my mouth turn down. I didn't know any of my family. No cousins, aunts, uncles. No grandparents. Mum never spoke of them. Truth be told, I was never even curious about them. It was just me and my mother, and that was the way I liked it.

When we reached the eighth floor, we were led through a moving portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress. The password was "thornberry". My heart thumped as I stepped through the hole behind the portrait.

It was dark in the large room, but despite the darkness, there was a very home-like feel to it. There was a cheery fire burning in the grate, a dozen squashy armchairs and sofas, and a large red and gold rug covering the stone floor. Awed is the only word that I could use to describe how I felt. How we all felt.

The boy Prefect led the boys up one staircase, while the girl Prefect led the girls up another on the opposite side of the room. There were doors on each landing of the staircase, and a sign that proclaimed the year of the students that stayed in that room. At the top of the staircase, the sign on the door proclaimed "First Years." The Prefect opened the door, and led us inside.

There were four large beds inside, each with crimson velvet hangings. A trunk was laid out at the foot of each bed, and I spotted my particular trunk by the bed next to the window. At first the thought thrilled me, but then I saw a silver sliver of the waning moon just under the arch of the glass. My stomach wrenched, nearly making me want to vomit at the thought that struck me next: _there were only ten days left until the next full moon_.

* * *

Perhaps this part of the story feels like the longest. In a way, telling it does take longer because I can find the words to describe these things. I can't, however, put into words the more horrifying parts of my life. Maybe it's because there are hundreds of words to describe happiness, but only a handful for suffering.

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't miserable. Truth be told, I wouldn't exchange what I had for the world. Even with everything I found hellish, I wouldn't have found the treasures. My mother always did say that it took rubbish to notice rubies.

And rubies I had found myself. Lots of them.

Classes were going well, and even the transformations weren't as brutal because I was more occupied with friends and Quidditch and classes.

James, Sirius, and Peter became my constant companions. We went everywhere together, and they were very sympathetic when I told them that my mother was sick. I felt bad lying to them, but I was terrified to find out what would happen if I told them what I was. I had once heard a boy telling another boy that there were werewolves in the Forbidden Forest. "They're big and hairy, with snarling, yellow fangs and they live off human blood," he told the trembling boy. "They rip out your throat and lap out your insides." I went up to my room and cried. 

Come second year, it was getting harder and harder to hide what I was. I had used the excuse of my mother being sick too many times. Me being sick worked, because I often looked peaky around that time. But James, Sirius, and Peter were getting suspicious that I got sick so often. I would make up different illnesses - allergic reactions, colds, flus, I even once told them that I was hexed from behind and that was why I was in the hospital wing. But all those excuses never satisfied them.

"Remus," James said one afternoon, "are you coming down with something? _Again_?"

"My stomach isn't agreeing with me, mates," I lied.

"Hrm," Sirius said. "Sorry mate." He gazed to the window and looked at the moon -- full and bright enough to be seen durign the daylight hours. He scratched his head. "You know what I noticed?"

"What's that?" I asked.

"That last time you were sick, it was during the full moon," he said.

My stomach dropped. I wanted to be ill. I wanted to scream. I wanted to die. They couldn't possibly have figured it out, could they?

"Yeah," James said. "And the time before that."

"In fact," Peter said, "We've never been to Astronomy class with you when there was a full moon."

The three were looking at me, their faces serious. They then looked at one another, as if deciding who would say what needed to be said next. It was James who spoke up.

"Remus," he said. He took a deep breath. "Are you a werewolf?"

My legs could no longer hold me. They folded beneath me and I sank to the ground. I stared at my hands in my lap, the tears welling in my eyes. This was it, I knew. This was the part where they learned the truth, where they took the truth and spread it like wildfire. This was the part where I would be kicked out of school, never to return.

I stared at my blurring hands. I couldn't move in order to do anything to accept or deny the accusation. I'm sure my guilt was visible enough. It felt like I sat there for a long time, just staring at my hands, trying not to let the tears fall. Everything was ruined. What I had worked so hard to keep secret was revealed, and I would be punished for something I couldn't control.

What I was most afraid of, though, wasn't that I'd be kicked out of school, or that I'd be featured in news topics around the wizarding world. I was most afraid of losing my friends -- my Life River. I'd have let down my mum and Headmaster Dumbledore, my hero. I'd have nothing left to live for.

And then Peter spoke up in a timid voice, barely above a whisper:

"It's okay, you know, if you are."

* * *

_A/N: Thank you to everyone for all the comments. I really appreciate them. And thanks for being patient. I've had **the** worst case of writer's block. No joke. There's nothing in my brain right now -- do you ever feel that way? Like your head is just empty when it comes to writing?_

Oh well, what can you do? So, because of that, I'm sorry if this chapter isn't quite up to par. And I know it's rather short. Hopefully we don't have to wait too long until the next installment. I'm just as eager as you are!

Thanks again! Crimson Solitaire


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